Mind Fuck

May 24, 2015


Mmmmmm mind fucks.

The good kind. Not the ones that make me question myself, everything I know to be true and think  ‘are you out of your fucking mind?’
Or worse, my least favorite, the one that hurts me the most…”who does this?”

The kind of mind fuck that becomes tantric. Waxing and waning, going light and dark but never losing its gravitational pull. The moon is always there even when I can’t see it, I feel it.

After some self-induced penance of hiding away from the world for…god, let’s not.
I felt like Oliver Twist, hungry.
So I asked the cosmos for more.

Put in a request to the Universe for 4 things, specifically things I wanted back.

My Swagger.
My Magic.
My Juju.
My Equal.

I realized the fourth was something I haven’t had yet. That thought used to strike terror in me, my openness and intensity send most running. Hell, I ran from me too.

“You had the power all along my dear” was the answer to the first 3. It always is. I get bogged down in the shitty opinions of others and absorb them as my own. Note to self, stop doing that.

Woke up the next morning, wishes granted. With the usual highly amusing twist (wait for it).

I always get what I want. It is part of this deal I have with the Universe. Not to be confused with getting what I need, I get that too. Christians are prone to saying “God only gives us what we can handle”. Apparently I can handle every fucking thing EVER, even when I think I cannot even. Its always funny in retrospect I swear. I am here to explore, experience and learn I know this and its alright.

Oh wait. There is one thing I cannot abide. Fucking ellipses. Limbo, oh I do not like limbo. Waiting.

But wait. This is new. This feels more like anticipation, like the week leading up to Christmas where the gifts would multiply overnight.

There are two kinds of people in the world. Those who rip the house apart and know what they are opening Xmas morning, and those who wait.
For this, I’ll wait.
It’s delicious this not knowing, not forcing, not rushing, being teased.

He gives comfort, conversational reinforcement. This is tangible. The tree is there. The presents are present and multiplying exponentially.

So, I ask the Universe for my equal, and what follows is this exquisite cadence. This whole business of living and working getting in the way, making us wait to see each other again but the physical void filled with eloquent teasing. This constant pull, this low thrumming drawn out mind fuck physically manifesting itself in this sensation where I feel constantly orgasmically on the verge, where the gifts keep piling up as words and epiphanies.


If my swagger and magic were always there, that means as an equal, he has his own. My wide eyed, smiling exclamation of ‘what are you’, answered with an impish grin.

Frida Kahlo said “take a lover who looks at you like maybe you are magic.” Beautiful thought, but please, sir, I want more. I want someone who sees my magic because he has it too.

Oh yes, the cosmic twist. The equal I asked the universe for manifested as a young un’ artist with the prettiest mouth I have ever seen, felt or heard.

My exact words were ‘give me what I want or something better’, well played Universe, well fucking played.

Thank you

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